"Are you Uchiha Madara… or Danzo Shimura?"
The first words from Uchiha Itachi as he returned from the Tsukuyomi realm were like thunder shattering the silence of the night.
His voice, calm yet cutting, spread into the still air like the strike of a blade.
For a moment, the world seemed to pause.
---
Nagato's eyes widened, his expression finally betraying disbelief. Even Black Zetsu, who was usually composed and calculating, stiffened in surprise.
"…What?!"
Nagato's usually steady tone cracked. "Danzo? What nonsense is this?"
Why would Danzo Shimura—Konoha's shadowy schemer, a man who hid in the darkness of the village—suddenly be linked with the figure who had always declared himself as Uchiha Madara?
Even Black Zetsu found his thoughts thrown into disarray. For someone as meticulous as him, who had manipulated centuries of history, this sudden twist was incomprehensible. His suspicion, already shaken by Uchiha Gen's strange abilities, deepened into a quiet dread.
---
Itachi's eyes, scarlet with the weight of the Mangekyō, remained calm. He explained in his low, steady voice:
"In the Tsukuyomi Dimension just now… Danzo's chakra appeared."
The Masked Man froze for a heartbeat. Then, he let out a dark, mocking laugh.
"Heh… how ridiculous." His tone was sharp and cold. "What a dull fabrication. Do you really think such nonsense would confuse me? My Mangekyō has already repelled your genjutsu. To claim that I am Danzo Shimura… that disgusting rat hiding in Konoha's gutters…"
His voice thickened with contempt. "You dare to compare me with him?"
The Masked Man's eyes narrowed, and his aura pressed down with hostility. To him, Danzo was beneath notice—a pathetic insect that crawled in shadows, unworthy of comparison to the name Madara Uchiha.
And yet, Itachi's words had carried the weight of truth, not mockery.
This only fueled the Masked Man's disgust. "Your tricks are endless, Itachi. Are you so desperate to cloud the minds of those around you that you would utter such filth?"
---
Black Zetsu, standing silently at the edge, felt his unease swell.
This… this is going too far.
Though he could not grasp the full truth, he knew one thing with certainty: the Masked Man's state was unraveling. Frenzy clouded his judgment. That dangerous calm, that icy precision which had made him reliable as a pawn, was vanishing, leaving behind a storm of obsession.
The Masked Man clutched tightly onto the glass container in his hand—the vessel holding Uchiha Gen's eye. His grip was like iron, his knuckles turning white beneath the swirling shadows of his cloak.
That eye… that cursed relic of Gen… it was the last anchor of his plan.
The more Itachi pressed him with riddles and accusations, the more he felt the threads of his control loosening. A ruthless gleam appeared in his eye. He could no longer waste time with these distractions.
His one and only path was clear: destroy the shinobi world, erase its pain, and create a perfect dream where Rin lived again.
Only Rin.
That was his truth. His obsession. His curse. His salvation.
---
The next moment, his figure blurred. His body shifted into that untouchable, ethereal state, phasing through the air. And then—
He vanished.
A single distortion in space was all that remained.
---
Nagato's Rinnegan narrowed, watching the direction the Masked Man had disappeared into. His voice, low and heavy, broke the silence:
"…What just happened?"
Was even he, a wielder of the eyes of the Sage of Six Paths, being deceived?
"Could it be…" Nagato's voice deepened, "that Uchiha Gen's ability extends beyond mere illusions? Could it… truly allow one to control the power of other Sharingan?"
---
Itachi's face darkened further at this suggestion. His calm exterior betrayed only a shadow of thought, but inwardly, he pieced together fragments of possibility.
"Yes." His voice was cold, absolute. "This… so-called Uchiha Madara has likely become nothing more than a puppet controlled by Uchiha Gen."
But his own words stirred a greater storm within him.
If Gen's power could manipulate even Mangekyō Sharingan… then what about Danzo's chakra that he had seen? Was that, too, an echo of Shisui's eye?
The mystery deepened.
---
Tendo Pain, usually calm and detached, allowed a flicker of surprise to cross his face.
"Even the legendary Madara Uchiha… reduced to a puppet?"
The statement was heavy, almost heretical.
Black Zetsu's internal thoughts twisted bitterly.
Idiots. You fools still don't understand. He was never Madara to begin with…!
But he bit his tongue, silence gripping him. His plan—the centuries of careful design to resurrect his mother—was already slipping further and further beyond his grasp.
He seethed with silent fury.
Uchiha Gen… you've ruined everything.
---
The clearing fell into silence.
Only the whisper of wind moved through the forest, carrying the scent of damp earth and night air.
---
Meanwhile…
Deep within the trees, the Masked Man moved swiftly, phasing from shadow to shadow. His cloak flickered like smoke beneath the pale moonlight.
His breathing was heavy, though his face betrayed no emotion.
No… this cannot go on. The Akatsuki… the Five Great Nations… the world itself. The paths are aligning toward something I cannot allow.
He clenched his fist. His plan was absolute, yet the threads had begun to fray.
The greatest threat of all was not Nagato, not Itachi, not even the Five Kage.
It was time itself slipping away.
And his eye.
His left eye.
Kakashi's Sharingan.
---
"I must retrieve it."
His voice was low, but it echoed in the depths of his heart like a vow.
He phased into the void, his perception extending outward, feeling for the faint, familiar pulse of chakra… the resonance of his other half.
He found it.
---
Under the night sky, on the outskirts near Konoha, three figures walked along a dirt road. The moonlight bathed them in silver light.
Kakashi.
Jiraiya.
Tsunade.
The three conversed quietly, the warmth of companionship momentarily easing the burdens of war.
Jiraiya chuckled, scratching his head with a grin.
"Kakashi… you've been keeping up with my novels, haven't you?"
His teasing tone filled the night with rare lightheartedness.
But then—his words faltered. His instincts screamed.
Something was wrong.
---
Before the warning could leave his lips, a shadow descended upon them like death itself.
The Masked Man emerged from the darkness behind Kakashi, silent as a phantom. The faint glow of the moon cast sharp angles across his mask, the single eye hole glinting with cold fire.
And then—
The Kamui activated.
A swirling vortex tore open, reality itself bending, pulling with unstoppable force. The space around Kakashi warped violently, as though the night itself had opened its jaws to consume him.
---
"Kakashi!"
Tsunade's voice thundered as she launched forward, her foot cracking the earth beneath her with the force of her leap. Chakra surged through her body like a tempest, raw and overwhelming.
Jiraiya's expression hardened, his playful demeanor gone in an instant as he flared his own chakra, ready to strike.
But it was too late.
The Kamui's pull was merciless.
Kakashi's Sharingan spun wildly, resonating with the Masked Man's own. A crimson echo surged between them, dragging Kakashi's body into the vortex.
"…Tch—!" Kakashi gritted his teeth, his body beginning to dissolve into the spiraling void.
"No!" Jiraiya roared, but the distortion had already consumed him.
In the blink of an eye—Kakashi was gone.
---
Darkness.
Kakashi landed in silence, the world around him shifting into the eerie, endless void of Kamui's dimension.
And there—emerging from the gloom—was the Masked Man.
The two faced each other, the space around them heavy with tension.
---
Kakashi stared quietly, his single visible eye fixed on the figure before him. Something within him shifted, a clarity forming in his mind.
"…It's you."
The Masked Man froze.
"…What?"
For the first time, he was shaken. His breath caught in his throat.
Kakashi's words were not of confusion, nor of fear. They were of recognition.
"…You're the Masked Man."
---
The Masked Man lowered his head slightly, the shadows of his mask hiding the storm of emotions in his eyes. His voice, when it came, trembled with a faint edge.
"Kakashi… this time, I will reclaim what is mine."
His tone was resolute. The Sharingan—his eye—was right before him.
---
Yet Kakashi did not resist.
His gaze softened, calm as still water. His lips curved into a faint smile, tinged with sadness but also with relief.
"…If that's the case… then take it."
---
The words struck the Masked Man like lightning.
"…What?"
---
For Kakashi, time itself seemed to blur. The walls of Kamui's space dissolved, and memories rose to the surface.
A cave.
The damp, suffocating darkness of that day.
The boy who had stood before him with unshakable resolve.
Obito.
The young boy who had entrusted his dream, his only eye, and his very future into Kakashi's hands.
That moment replayed itself with crystal clarity. And for the first time… Kakashi truly saw it through Obito's eyes.
The pain.
The despair.
The helplessness as Rin, gentle Rin, threw herself into the strike of his Chidori.
He felt it all.
---
His voice was quiet, yet it cut deep:
"So… that's how it was, Obito…"
The Masked Man froze. The name—his true name—pierced the shadows like light.
"…Kakashi, you…"
His voice trembled.
---
But Kakashi only smiled faintly, shaking his head.
"I finally understand you, Obito."
"Rin… she was your everything. And all this time, you've only wanted to build a world where she could live again."
His words were not an accusation, but understanding.
"And I believe…" Kakashi whispered, "only you could create such a world. After all… we both once dreamed of becoming Hokage."
---
The Masked Man's breath hitched. His hand trembled as he stared at the man before him in disbelief.
"…Kakashi, you…"
---
Kakashi's voice was firm, yet filled with quiet sorrow.
"I understand you, Obito. Because we are bound by the same blood… because we share the same eye… because we've both seen this world's pain through the same lens."
---
And with that… silence fell.
Two men.
Two halves of the same soul.
Bound by blood, memory, and the scarlet glow of the Sharingan.
At last… Kakashi spoke the words that bridged the abyss between them.
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